


miscere

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Genocide Route Sans (Undertale), Illustrations, Mute Frisk (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Sans' fight, Time Loop, Timeline Shenanigans, Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: frisk realizes, rather belatedly, that they hadn't said hello to him.they only realize he's counting their deaths when they come face to face with a giant skull. it's too late.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	miscere

**Author's Note:**

> 18/9/20; upload date. ive used a lot of the original fight dialogue. not a lot lot, but, enough. i hope you can all look past that. i thought it only fitting  
> thank you  
> 19/9/20; added additional tags. fixed couple typos. added an illustration by [@declawedcat on twitter](https://twitter.com/declawedcat/status/1307225187738296320) . please check them out, i love them

frisk steps through the threshold, eyes rowing from the golden-hued tiles to the arched windows. the stained glass panes in particular hold their attention. they have to stop for a moment just to appreciate how beautiful it is, the sun's rays warm on their face.

  
they stand there for so long, lost in their little reverie, that they barely notice sans standing between two pillars, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

  
their face lights up, and a smile spreads across their lips.

  
"hi sans!" they sign.

  
the skeleton graces them with a strange look, his brow bones moving into an approximation of a scowl. frisk still wonders how that works. shouldn't bones be... you know... they suppose it doesn't matter. it certainly makes it easier to understand when sans is making a joke and grins at it himself.

  
this, however, doesn't sound like a joke.

  
"heya," he says, looking not at them, but almost through them. "you've been busy, huh?"

  
they tilt their head to the side, confused. they came straight here from the core.

  
silence stretches between them.

  
"so, i've got a question for ya. do you think even the worst person can change...? that everybody can be a good person, if they just try?"

  
frisk pushes away the urge to say that had been two questions, not one. instead, they just nod.

  
sans' frown deepens, somehow. "alright. well, here's a better question. do you wanna have a bad time? 'cause if you take another step forward... you are _really_ not going to like what happens next."

  
frisk is confused.

  
this seems important, important like when sans took them to the restaurant (nevermind that they basically took _him_ , with the way their gold just vanished, but still).

  
for a second they clutch their stick tighter, before shoving it unceremoniously into their pants' pocket. "i don't understand," they sign, "i need to get to king asgore."

  
they take a tentative step forward, eyeing sans carefully.

  
"welp. sorry, old lady," he mutters. frisk is yet more confused. does he mean toriel? what does toriel have to do with this? "this is why i never make promises."

  
and just like that, frisk's soul is yanked out of their body and laid bare for all to see.

  
their hands find the stick again and hold it to their chest, almost like a lifeline, like a dead piece of a tree is going to save them from a fight. like they've done the entire time they'd been stuck in the underground. sans seems to ignore them for a moment, basking in the warm light streaming through the windows himself, eye...sockets closed.

  
"it's a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like these, kids like you..."

  
something happens.

  
frisk doesn't know what. sans opens his eye sockets, but there is no light behind them.

  
"should be burning in hell."

  
suddenly they're on the ground, their soul a sickly blue. 

  
the tiles under them rumble.

  
they crack.

  
frisk is no more.

* * *

  
  
frisk steps through the threshold, eyes only skimming over the beautiful hallway before they settle on sans, standing between two pillars like he hadn't moved an inch.

  
their steps are tentative now, fingers worrying over the half-smooth bark of their stick. still, they sign a "hello, sans." their brows are drawn together, shoulders hunched.

  
they don't understand.

  
sans pretends to think, looking them over before grinning. "heya. you look frustrated about something. guess i'm pretty good at my job, huh?"

  
frisk tries to sign again, but their soul is yanked out again and they instinctively flinch, rendering whatever they were going to say moot.

  
sans' words cut deep. maybe even deeper than the first time, now that they're not _as_ shell-shocked.

  
they still don't understand.

  
they fall to the floor, feel the tiles rumble. this time, they pick themselves up and narrowly jump over the bones coming from the floor.

  
and immediately get speared by a slew of bones coming at them from the side.  
  


* * *

  
  
this time, frisk hesitates in the doorway.

  
they're not scared of fights. maybe a little. they're not scared of dying. maybe a little. maybe a little more than little.

  
they wish they knew why sans had attacked them.

  
they peek around one of the pillars to see him standing exactly where he'd been the last time, eye sockets closed as he enjoys the sun.

  
"hmm. that expression... that's the expression of someone who's died twice in a row," he says, without opening his sockets. "suffice to say, you look really... unsatisfied. all right. how about we make it a third?"

  
they realize, rather belatedly, that they hadn't said hello to him.

  
they only realize he's counting their deaths when they come face to face with a giant skull. it's too late.

  
the world turns white.  
  


* * *

  
  
frisk steps from foot to foot.

  
their stick almost creaks under their grip as they hold it up to their chest. with a deep breath, they put it away and step into the hallway, steps echoing between the walls.

  
they sign a "hello."

  
again, sans regards them, though this time he does actually look at them. the fact that he's doing something different every time makes frisk's skin crawl with a chill. no one else had noticed that when they died the world rewound to bring them back yet. sans obviously does.

  
"hmm," he hums, pretending to think again. or at least frisk thinks he's pretending. if he knows what comes after, and before, he wouldn't have to think. "that's the expression of someone who's died thrice in a row."

  
silence falls, and frisk's heart isn't yanked out. yet. they take the moment to raise their hands.

  
"hey, what comes after 'thrice,' anyway?"

  
they shake their head before he can yank their soul out. "sans. why are you fighting me?"

  
the skeleton cocks his head to the side. "really, kid? i'd have thought you'd know all about exp and love. want a refresher before you help me find out?" 

  
as if guarding their soul, frisk clutches at their chest. like that would stop sans from ripping it out if he wanted to. _when_ he wanted to.

  
they nod.

  
"they're acronyms. exp stands for 'execution points'. a way of quantifying the pain you have inflicted on others." sans rattles off a lengthy explanation, but it clears up absolutely nothing. frisk hadn't hurt anyone.

  
...

  
maybe save for greater dog, when he tried to jump on their lap and they got a little too scared and pushed him off. then again, they made up for it in pets. they had hoped.

  
after his explanation, sans yanks their soul out and they're too slow to dodge one of the lasers from his skulls.

  
the world fades into white again.  
  


* * *

  
  
they don't bother hesitating in the hallway this time. 'stay determined,' they remind themselves in their head, a mantra of sorts. if another voice joins their own to chant along, they try not to think about it.  
maybe sans will explain if they proceed further? it's with those thought that they stand their ground, shoulders hunched and stick by their side.

  
"hmm. that expression... that's the expression of someone who's died quice in a row. quice? frice? welp, won't have to use it again anyways."

  
it's still morbid that sans is counting their deaths. 

  
this time they focus on the bones, eyes flicking back and forth. one grazes their upper arm, and it _hurts_.

  
when sans summons his skull-lasers, frisk barely manages to duck out of the way.

  
they pant with exertion, chest heaving. their stick is heavy in their hand. they can't bring themselves to raise it against sans. they don't know if sans knows this. not anymore.

  
"huh. always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first."

  
sans awaits their move, just like every other monster they've fought. for frisk, there is no choice.

  
they spare him.

  
next thing they know, bones rain down from above, and they don't see where to dodge.  
  


* * *

  
  
"that's the expression of someone who's died five times in a row. convenient, huh? that's one for each finger. but soon... you'll need a cool mutant hand to count all of your deaths."

  
at this point, frisk thinks they shouldn't pay attention to the counting jokes sans keeps making. if they think about it too hard, they are forced to remember each attempt, and the phantom pain lingering from each one. but it's hard to, when it's what sans 'greets' them with each time.

  
"sans, please," they sign, to no avail. sans simply ignores them.

  
"it's a beautiful day outside. birds are singing-"

  
and then they're on the ground.

  
they'd like to pretend the bones don't surprise them, but that would be lying.  
  


* * *

  
  
"that's the expression of someone who's died seven times in a row." _please stop._ "hey, that's good. seven's supposed to be a lucky number. who knows, maybe you'll hit the jackpot..." _please, no._ "and that number will multiply tenfold."

  
frisk's eyes sting as they try their best to dodge out of the way of incoming bones. the tips of their hair don't survive a laser blast, but otherwise they're in one piece.

  
maybe sans taunting them before he even throws the first bone is getting to them. they don't know. they don't know anything.

  
one slip of their foot on the tiles is enough for a barrage of bones to lodge themselves into their back.

* * *

they'd like to lose track of how many times it had been, but sans stubbornly makes that impossible. "hey, congrats! the big one-oh! let's invite all your friends over for a big shindig. we can have pie, and hot dogs, and... hmmm... wait. something's not right. you don't have any friends."

  
a chill runs down their spine. that hurts more than the bone that comes from below and pierces their leg. tears roll down their cheeks as they try to pretend sans is lying.

  
has sans ever lied? would he lie to them?

  
they have friends!

  
they do!

  
a hit from one of the lasers kills them again, now that they're unable to run.  
  


* * *

  
  
they stand outside the hallway, fingers shaking as they fiddle with their phone. their first instinct is to call toriel, but just like every time, nobody picks up. their breathing is so loud it echoes now.

  
the phone almost falls from their grasp as they try to dial papyrus instead, the ringing tone almost taunting.

  
no one picks up.

  
this time they're crying before they even talk to sans. they still sign a 'hello,' to him, knowing it makes little difference.

  
"hmm. that expression... that's the expression of someone who's died eleven times in a row. well, give or take. there's nuance to this stuff. don't think i'll be able to count very well from here. count for me, ok? we'll start from 12."

  
frisk loses track as soon as they're caught by a stray bone while jumping over others.  
  


* * *

  
  
they take to calling papyrus' number every time they reload. the call is never picked up, however.

  
true to his own word, sans had stopped counting their deaths, instead opting to just say 'let's just get to the point,' as if there _was_ a point.

  
if there was, they can't see it.

  
they tell themselves to stay determined, but it's hard. each time they learn on of sans' attacks, or one of his tells, he gets them with something else. sometimes new, sometimes... not.

  
every single spare is met with more bones, more obstacles, more lasers. it's a test of endurance, and frisk is failing terribly.

  
they don't know if they even really mind the next time their soul is shattered in a flash of white.  
  


* * *

  
  
'help'

'please'

  
their tears hit the display of their tiny phone. it's a small wonder they'd even managed to write the texts. they can't get sans' remark about not having friends out of their mind.

  
would he chase them if they ran back to see? probably not, but on the small off-chance that he would, they don't want to get anyone else caught in their own problem.

  
though isn't that what they're doing, texting papyrus? how hypocritical.

  
they dodge two new attacks from sans before their next demise.

* * *

they wake up, they call toriel. they call papyrus. they send him two texts. they hold their stick in their left hand.

  
the bark on it is worn off to the point of being smooth under their palm.

  
they step into the corridor. they greet sans. they listen to him talk.

  
they die.  
  


* * *

  
  
over, and over.  
  


* * *

  
  
frisk wonders what would happen if they lost their determination. would they die and not come back?

  
why does that sound so good all of a sudden?  
  


* * *

  
  
"hello," they sign at sans. "how are you?"

  
it seems to catch him off guard, but not for long. his eyes regard them as they swap their stick from hand to hand. "i'm great, kiddo," he says, grinning.

  
for a split second, they think they might be able to talk. 

  
"i'll be even better when you're dead again."

  
they aren't.  
  


* * *

  
  
"it's a beautiful day," they sign, "birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like this, kids like me, should burn in hell."

  
it should hurt. it hurts a little less when they're the one saying the words, if only marginally.

  
sans keeps frowning whenever they deviate from the 'script'. they did too, at the start, so it's only fair, right?

  
they're barely holding on, and they're forced to eat the slice of pie toriel baked them. they'd been trying to save it, to enjoy when they felt bad. it tastes delicious.

  
they start to cry again.

  
it makes them miss one of the bone walls and consequently get skewered, but... at least they'll get to enjoy their pie again.

* * *

  
  
they're slowly getting better at dodging sans' attacks. very, very slowly. and not counting all the times they die nigh immediately because they start crying.

  
every time they do, sans gives them this look. they don't know what it is.

  
they're still so confused.  
  


* * *

  
  
they don't know why they keep sending those texts to papyrus. maybe they keep a little kindling of hope that he will show up, talk some sense into sans. or maybe undyne.

  
they'd welcome anyone at this point.

  
they're tired.

  
one try they don't do anything but sit in the doorway, hugging into their knees to their chest and crying into them. they're speared by a bone.

* * *

  
  
'stay determined,' the voice in their head repeats. 'you can't give up!'

so frisk goes through the door, looks at their friend, gets their soul yanked out, and dies.

they might be close to their hundredth time. they're better at dodging by now. it doesn't mean much when one small misstep means their death, but on the other hand, sans isn't going anywhere, and they have infinite tries.  
or, at least that's what they think.

  
sometimes fatigue weighs so heavy on them they can't even raise their hands and greet sans. sometimes they try to strike up a conversation instead of just listening to sans say the same things. it never works, or, more accurately, it doesn't work for long.

  
they eat toriel's pie.

  
it's as delicious every time as it had been the first.  
  


* * *

  
  
they spare sans every time they're allowed to do something. they don't want to fight. sometimes sans keeps attacking, sometimes he yells "get dunked on!"

  
this isn't one of those. he motions with one hand, the other still snug in his hoodie's pocket, and their body is flung up and down, side to side.

  
they're barely managing to dodge all the bones, and still freeze up for just a moment when they see his skull cannons.

  
they try their best not to cry when they eat toriel's pie.

  
they try not to cry when sans keeps on taunting them. "sounds strange, but before all this i was secretly hoping we could be friends," he says. 

  
they flinch back so hard they get hit by one of the bones. their fingers grip their stick; their knuckles turn white.

  
they really thought they _had_ been friends.

  
"i thought we were friends," they echo the thought, fingers shaking as soon as they're not wrapped around the stick's smooth surface.

  
sans chuckles.

  
frisk uses their turn to catch their breath, and force down the next wave of tears that threaten to spill from their eyes. when they're ready (when they wipe them with the sleeve of their sweater), they spare sans and try to prepare themselves for another barrage of bones. it's so hard to get the jumps right, bones graze them left and right, and their poison, or whatever they do to him when they hit home, makes frisk nauseous, but they push through. the next barrage they prepare to jump over, but...

  
"HUMAN! I HAVE SEEN YOUR MESSAGES! WHAT IS IT YOU NEED SAVING FROM?"

  
frisk whips their head around so fast they almost lose balance and topple over. sans' bones grind to a half in midair as he follows frisk's gaze. in the doorway stands papyrus, with undyne right on his heels.

  
"what's going on here! sans?" she asks, looking between him, his poised-to-strike bones and frisk.

  
"SANS, WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE? THE HUMAN MESSAGED ME THEY NEED HELP! ARE YOU HERE TO HELP TOO?"

  
sans gasps. "papyrus...? you're..." he mumbles. the 'alive' is on the tip of his (metaphorical) tongue, but it never makes it out.

  
frisk clutches their stick to their chest, protecting their soul as they run towards papyrus. they had tried to not cry. it didn't work.

"pap, no! get away from-"

  
frisk throws their short arms around papyrus' midriff, the fingers not busy gripping their favorite piece of broken wood tugging on papyrus' chestpiece. to say the skeleton is startled is an understatement. "HUMAN, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? I KNOW I AM THE ALL POWERFUL, ALL POPULAR PAPYRUS, BUT THIS IS UNLIKE EVEN YOU! HAVE YOU, BY ANY CHANCE, NOT GOTTEN OVER YOUR FEELINGS YET?"

  
frisk sniffles and shakes their head, but it has no effect when they've practically buried their face into papyrus' ribcage. instead, papyrus turns to sans.

  
"SANS, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

  
"yeah, i'd like to know too," undyne says, arms folded on her chest. "were you two... fighting?"

  
sans' outstretched hand falls to his side, and so, too, do his bones fade from midair. "i-- you... you're supposed to be dead."

  
undyne narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. papyrus scoffs. "WHY WOULD WE BE DEAD, SANS?"

  
sans balls his hand into a fist at his side. "because chara... killed you all."

  
undyne marches her way towards him and grabs onto the front of his shirt. "who's chara? why were you attacking my bestie?! only _i_ can attack my bestie!" she bellows.

  
sans looks over where the kid is still hugging papyrus like their life depended on it. his brother is trying (and failing) to console them, with a hand on their head and ruffling their hair.

  
what... is going on?

  
their soul is still exposed. they're still in a fight. he checks them.

LV 1, _frisk_.

  
undyne lets him go in favor of calling alphys. papyrus is not good at consoling kids. they're trying to sign something to him, too fast and too jittery to make any sense.

  
sans is confused.

  
he feels his sin crawl on his back.

  
over 

  
  
and over

  
  
again.


End file.
